Hello, Madam
by Polgaria
Summary: A continuation of 'Her First Madam' Mary Briston, now under her full name of Mairead, is working at Anemone's Alchemy when a string of events brings Xiomara Hooch to her doorstep after eight years. PLEASE REVIEW?
1. Chapter 1

Hooch hissed as a bludger whined past her head. The crowd groaned collectively, some because the bloodthirsty ball hadn't collided with the woman, and the rest because the fear had been it would. She glared around in the chaos of mid-game and yes, there he was. When Hooch had agreed to this whole memorial exhibition and had found out she'd be playing against her generation of the Chudley Cannons, the witch had a funny feeling her old adversary might take the opportunity to make an ass of himself.

"Apsley, you bastard," Hooch barked, moving her broom to confront her attacker. A paunchy man in his fifties with the remnants of good looks smiled at her from where he sat in mid air, brandishing his beating stick.

"Wotcher, Hoochy," he called, waving jovially. "S'all part of the game you know- or have you forgotten the way things go while at your posh position teaching all of Dumbledore's kiddies how to mount a broomstick?"

Xiomara closed in on the aging Cannon's beater and hovered a challenging few inches away. "Bludgers may be part of the game, you old letch, but suffering the use of them as settlement for a twenty year-old vendetta all because I didn't want to fuck you is pushing it. Grow up, Apsley." Hooch swiped sweaty silver spikes away from her goggles and leaned her broom away from the conflict to re-enter the game. Apsley sat dumbly on his broom, looking after her with an longing expression, shadowed by embarrassment.

"Bloody ass," she grumbled, trying to resituate herself in game play. Hooch wasn't afraid of Quidditch brutality, she usually relished it. However, it had it's place in a real match, not an exhibition game. Especially not in an exhibition game that was meant as a twenty-year reunion for so many Quidditch players who had been forced into retirement when the league closed during the first war against the Dark Lord.

Xiomara shook herself out of her brooding as she at last traced the play of the quaffle. Confident she could now be of use, she sidled up parallel to her old team mate.

"Oi, Griffiths," Hooch yelled, giving Wilda the signal for one of their old plays. Wilda Griffiths grinned, but soon her confidence gave way to an expression of panic as she gazed transfixed at some event unfolding behind Xiomara. Hooch, hair raising and sweat suddenly chilling wrenched her broom around in time only to dodge one of the two bludgers screaming towards her. The witch grunted as pain penetrated the dense uniform padding around her shoulder and shuddered down her arm and spine. The wind pushed from her lungs, Xiomara couldn't cry out as she slid from her broom and dropped towards the pitch below.

"Do you s'pose she's alright?"

"I dunno- did you see how far she fell?"

"What the bloody hell happened, anyway? I mean, this is _Hooch_ we're talking about here."

"That tosser Apsley and his mate only sent _both _bludgers after her at once, for whatever reason- she could just dodge the one in time, and then the other got her full force…"

"Would you all please clear the area- _please clear the area!_" A medi-witch had come upon the scene and was officiously attempting to attend the injured. The spectators, Hooch's team mates, remained mostly oblivious.

"Look here- she's coming round!"

"Yes, I saw her eyes flutter."

"_Move_ you blockheads!"

Hooch opened her eyes to see most of her field of vision filled by the ruddy , frustrated face of the exhibition's head medical witch, Hazel Harriot. Looming on the fringes were several of her team mates and some of the opposing team's members, mostly the women. Xiomara's eyes began to roll back as the full pain of her accident came upon her. A strong hand grasped her jaw.

"Hooch- focus on my voice and keep your eyes open."

Xiomara gazed up into the face of the medi-witch again, grinding her teeth against the constant throbbing which seemed to envelop her body.

Harriot grimaced. "Good girl, stay with me. We're taking you to Mungo's. I know it hurts but you'll have to try to stay awake. You've conked yourself on the head quite spectacularly and your shoulder was probably shattered by that bludger that caught you."

Hooch tried to move her right arm in that bizarre instinct that tells one to test out potential injuries. She cursed loudly.

As if in answer, her would-be healer shook her head in disbelief. "Did you think I was having you on? You people, despite your delusions otherwise, are not impervious! Lie still now, we'll be transporting you soon."

Hooch let her eyelids sink in the renewed heaviness passing through her dejected body. What a ridiculous mess this had turned out to be.

"She's losing consciousness again," barked the medi-witch. "Where the bloody hell is that evac team?"

In answer, someone delicately arranged the fallen chaser's crumpled form into the standard transport position.

"Immobilus," murmured Harriot, and the barely lucid Xiomara felt the familiar beginnings of a gut wrenching emergency apparation to St. Mungo's Hospital.

* * *

Mairead Briston smiled, satisfied with the deep turquoise smoke that now spiralled out of her pewter cauldron behind the counter at Anemone's Alchemy. The better-than-caffeine wakefulness draught had always been a bit daunting to the young witch, even after her two years at Staunton's Master Potions Academy, and though she'd brewed it flawlessly hundreds of times, Mairead always waited for the less than desirable explosion which would ensue should any small detail in the process have been overlooked.

She levitated several vials over to her working counter and began ladling the finished potion into them for sale. On the fourth vial, a commotion at the shop door caused her to spill some of the cooling draught down her arm. The liquid tingled strangely on her skin before evaporating and leaving a deep fuchsia stain on her robes. Grumbling to herself, Mairead looked over to the door to see two middle-aged witches, backs towards her, arguing. Feigning involvement with her work, the young woman eavesdropped on their conversation- something about these two had piqued her interest.

"Bronwyn, honestly- I've been in that wretched hospital for near a month. Now I've finally escaped, I believe I can manage to open a door own my own."

Mairead, her empty vials sitting forgotten on the counter , now listened without pretence. She was perplexed by the familiarity of this woman's voice.

Bronwyn huffed in annoyance. "Mara! The medi-witch who discharged you _said_ you're not to be using that arm so much as to scratch your own arse!"

"I don't believe those were her exact words," came the catty response.

Mairead muffled a snicker, almost at the same time she realised what the nagging witch had called her friend. A tingle of unease spread along her skin. But it must be a coincidence- she hadn't seen or even heard of the Hogwarts flying instructor for years. To run into her now would be, well, Mairead wasn't sure. Wanting some distraction now from the other's conversation, she returned to bottling her potion, though she couldn't help but listen for some clue as to the woman's identity. But why? What would it matter, really, if the woman were Hooch or not? What difference would it make either way? It had been so long…

"Hooch, you dolt. You know what I mean, so leave off it. You already looked knackered, so hadn't we better just get your potions and go home?"

Xiomara sighed resignedly. "Fine."

The couple, for that's what they sounded, approached the counter. Mairead, mind whirring, could only hope Xiomara Hooch would not recognize her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hiya," the woman named Bronwyn trilled pleasantly. Mairead smiled at her, quite deliberately avoiding any eye-contact with Hooch.

"We're here to pick up some potions," Xiomara's companion prompted. "They'll be under the name Hawley, Bronwyn Hawley. I called them in from St. Mungos a couple of days ago."

Mairead nodded. "I'll need the supervising medi-witch's name as well, please."

Bronwyn paused, then looked questioningly at Hooch. The smaller woman was distracted, looking strangely at the young, familiar employee of Anemone's Alchemy. Frowning, Xiomara tried to place the small stature, the long, tawny hair tied loosely at the girls neck. Blue eyes looked imploringly at her over thick pewter-framed spectacles. The young woman raised her eyebrows- Mairead knew why she was at the receiving end of Hooch's confused examination, but to show her understanding would be to reveal herself. Meanwhile, the Bronwyn woman nudged Xiomara's good side.

"Mara, the medi-witch's name, luv?"

Xiomara blinked. "It's uh- it's Harriot. She was volunteering at the exhibition game and kept me on afterwards at St. Mungos."

Without comment, Mairead turned to leaf through the large ledger on the back counter which contained all of the Alchemist's orders and client information. Hooch, released from her strange sense of déjà vu let out a small, nervous puff of air.

Mairead found the order quickly, realising that she had brewed the long list only the night before. _Continuing Skelegrow, Full Strength Pain Reduction Draught, Axonis Stimuli to facilitate nerve regrowth_ and on it went. The young witch placed Hooch's personal pharmacy into a brown paper box and then bagged the lot. Realising she would have to follow Anemone's procedure for such a complicated order, Mairead sighed inwardly.

"That's quite the menu Madam Hooch," Mairead commented warningly. "I've enclosed a parchment of instructions, times to take the potions and in what quantity. I brewed all of these last night, so if you've any questions, here's my owling address. I actually live just above the shop and I'm on call nearly all the time so if there are any doubts, please don't hesitate to contact me directly." She didn't bother mentioning that Anemone herself was only really shop owner in name, and that Mairead brewed all of the potions, looked after customers, and fairly ran the shop in the aging witch's absence.

Xiomara took the card while Bronwyn, who insisted on carrying the package, took the parcel and left the shop. Hooch glanced absently down at the card in her hand to make sure the contact information was complete.

Mairead A. Briston

_Potions MA Staunton's Academy_

_Special Residency; Alchemical Healing_

_St. Mungos_

_Anemone's Alchemy: Potion Master_

_659 Diagon Alley_

Xiomara looked at the young woman standing patiently behind the counter, her chest fluttering. She searched the blue-green eyes, gazed at the constellation of freckles across the girl's nose-

"Mary?"

The young witch regarded her with a hint of anger and poorly concealed grief.

"You're no slouch," Mairead murmured, an ache passing through her body, settling in her stomach as she recalled how she and Xiomara had parted. It had taken the younger 'Mary' several years to come to an accepting place concerning the Hogwarts flying instructor. While Mairead realised the older woman had pushed her away so coldly to free the girl she was from any lingering feelings, the old pain of her younger self remained stored in memory.

"Mary," Xiomara offered in a soft tone, her hand reaching slightly for the young woman, only to fall awkwardly back to her side, "I-

The young woman winced. "It's all right. I understand now, what happened." Xiomara continued to gaze at her with regret shining in her golden eyes. Steeling herself, Mairead said, "Now make sure to read that parchment thoroughly. Also, you'll need to return in one week for the new course of potions. You needn't worry about calling them in, Hazel will give us notice."

Xiomara, startled out of her transfixion by Mairead's abrupt change of subject, could only nod before she turned around and walked quickly from the shop, the door jingling behind her.

Hooch had to pause inside the vestibule of Anemone's Alchemy to collect herself. Though it had been years since the two had spoken and despite the young woman's reassurance, Xiomara could see that Mary- Mairead, she corrected herself- was very obviously still in pain. The older witch chewed her bottom lip, guilt overwhelming her anew. But what could she do now, she asked herself. She felt as though she hardly knew this mature version of the darling girl from her memory. It had been so many years.

"What was that?" Bronwyn inquired lightly when Hooch finally joined her outside the shop. The cool evening air somewhat refreshed the silver-haired woman, and Xiomara had the presence of mind to feign innocence.

"What was what?" she asked mildly.

"C'mon Mara," cajoled Bronwyn, rolling her eyes. "In the shop. Who was that girl- only, you looked as though you'd seen a ghost."

If Xiomara were to be honest with herself, she felt as if she had, too. Mary Briston, now going by her full name under the Ministry's registry. Mary- an accomplished, mature woman. When Hooch had so abruptly ended their short-lived relationship after Mary's own father had nearly caught them mid-snog in the dilapidated Quidditch shed, she hadn't expected ever to see the young woman again. It had been easier for the older woman to place the girl separately from anyone else she's been attracted to. Mary was off-limits. Forbidden. Mary was gone.

To see her standing so proficiently behind the counter, mature and confident, Xiomara found her perspective shifting.

"No- not a ghost Bron," Hooch commented distractedly. "She's a former Hogwarts student. Only, she looks different is all. She was hard to place."

Bronwyn, easily appeased, took Hooch's good arm and hooked it around her own. "That's nice, luv. We should have her round for supper or something, so you two can catch it up."

Xiomara deftly repressed what would have been an awkward response. "Speaking of," she deflected, "what's for dinner. I'm half starved. Did you want take-away?"

Bronwyn grinned. "Chinese or Indian?"

* * *

Back in the potions shop, Mairead crossed her eyes and exhaled a great lungful of air. While it had been pleasant to operate under the delusion that her former crush would not recognize her, the young woman realised that the discovery of her identity had been inevitable. As she had stated, Hooch was no slouch. Trying to distract herself, she finished bottling what was left of the wakefulness draught in somewhat of a daze, a state which lasted until she wearily ascended the stairs through the back of the shop to her small flat.

With tea in her hands and a dozy cat in her lap, Mairead nested in a corner of the plush sofa and brooded.

Xiomara. Until that afternoon, Mairead had convinced herself that she'd moved past her unrequited affections for the older woman- but perhaps, the young woman realised, the only reason she felt that way was because she hadn't actually _seen_ Hooch since leaving Hogwarts. -Now confronted with the woman whom she'd loved so fiercely, Mairead felt the pull to Xiomara as if they'd been flying together only the day before. The phantom sensation of how the woman's soft hair felt in her fingers, the way Xiomara trembled when she moved a hand softly across her stomach-

Feeling suddenly quite frantic, Mairead stood abruptly, disrupting the snoozing feline which leapt to the floor with a disgruntled hiss. On a scrap bit of parchment, she hurriedly scrawled a message to her friend Jenna, a girl she'd met at Staunton's, and tied the note to Albrecht's scaly leg.

"Quick as you can," Mairead murmured and opened the window of her second floor flat. The owl hooted softly in acquiescence and left, the gentle sound of wing beats fading into the evening air.

While she awaited Jenna's reply, Mairead paced her flat, unsettled. How quickly her attraction to Hooch had re-surfaced. How tangible her memories with the woman had suddenly become.

_I do love you Mary, and given the opportunity, I believe I could fall in love with you-_

_You are so talented and vibrant and I'm not allowed to have you- but toss it all for five minutes-_

_What do you fancy- and just to save you time, I'm not on the menu_

_I don't regret anything- save the fact that I can't keep you with me. Got it?_

Mairead surfaced and found tears slipping warmly down her cheeks. Sniffing, she dashed them away absently with the back of her hand. Unable to move, the young witch stood rooted in the middle of her living room and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

She was so involved with her moping that when the loud pop signalling Jenna's arrival rattled the flat's contents, Mairead nearly went through the ceiling.

"Merlin's _bag_ Jen! Couldn't you've done that on the street?"

Jenna grinned impishly. "I could've done, I suppose- but do I ever?"

Mairead had to smile. "No- and in fact, I'm still amazed you've managed so far no to land on the cat." The two young women glanced over to where said animal was lounging on the sofa, regarding them through sleepily sinking eyelids.

"He's not bothered," Mairead's friend commented blithely. Mairead shrugged her shoulders and was about to say something clever when another battery of magical bangs ricocheted off the flat's walls. Wryly, Mairead watched her cat fall asleep, and then looked around to appraise who else had invaded.

Paddy Johnston and his girlfriend Evelyn, smirking, stood on top of her dining room table.

"What're you doing here, you lot?" Mairead asked, surprised.

Paddy leapt nimbly from his stage and chivalrously assisted Evelyn down afterwards.

"Jenna called in the troops," he offered frankly. "Some sort of woman emergency?"

Mairead wrinkled her nose. She hadn't intended on having a public debate concerning her most recent personal problems.

"Mair's run into an old flame of sorts, haven't you luv?" Jenna clarified. "She's all in a state."

Evelyn, waggling her eyebrows suggestively said, "How interesting- and who is she, someone from school?"

Mairead flopped onto the sofa. "In a manner of speaking," she offered evasively. Picking up her sleeping cat, she held him close and nuzzled her face into his soft fur. Jenna perched beside her on the arm of the couch while Paddy and Evelyn occupied symmetrical floor pillows at either end of the coffee table.

"So who is she," inquired Evelyn eagerly, propping her chin casually in her hand. "A classmate? I didn't know you went with anyone at Hogwarts."

"She didn't," interjected Jenna knowingly. "It must be that Colette girl from Staunton's- though I thought she was in America now?"

Mairead nodded. "She is- though it's not Colette anyway. Ev is right- it is someone from Hogwarts, but she's not a student, at least not from our generation."

Confused looks passed between the young potion master's friends, then Paddy frowned.

"You went out with a Hogwarts professor, didn't you?" he accused. "Who? When?"

Mairead took a steadying breath. "Xiomara. Hooch." The trio was stunned. They were to become more so. "When I was in seventh year."

Jenna let out a low whistle. "Nice, Mair- Hooch is _fit_."

"Fit?" Paddy snorted. "She's ancient!"

His girlfriend nodded fervishly. "Completely ancient!"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You two are so naïve. Besides," she continued, directing her attention to the wilting Mairead, "she's only what- fifty?" Mairead nodded. "Which," Jenna continued firmly, "would've set her at about forty when Mair was in seventh year. Not so ancient after all."

Evelyn scooted closer to her friend and took her hand. "Sorry luv- I guess it's the grey hair or something. I don't understand."

Mairead forced a smiled. "Really- it's okay. I though I was mad when I realised how I felt about her- only I just couldn't help it. She was kind to me- offered me flying lessons out of her own time. When I told her I fancied her, Xiomara was quite understanding. And the thing was," she continued with more confidence, "we didn't even do anything about it after that, not until graduation was close. We flew, mostly, and talked. We didn't even kiss until three days before I left, and _I_ initiated it."

Paddy nodded, mollified by Hooch's admirable behaviour. Mostly, he'd been afraid his friend had been taken advantage of. "Did you two ever- you know?"

Mairead shook her head. "Not really- a bit of heavy snogging, almost more. Xiomara was the first person I'd even kissed in earnest. We mostly spent time in her quarters, sitting with one another on the sofa. Besides, Xiomara didn't want to start anything sexual, not while I was still a student. But," she continued, her voice hitching, "she did tell me that she loved me, and that she wished she could keep me with her."

Her friends sat, transfixed by her story.

"So what happened?" Jenna asked finally. "What happened when you left?"

Mairead explained to her friends about the last flying lesson, the beautiful necklace Xiomara had given her. The one she gave back.

Evelyn regarded her solemnly. "But she only acted that way because you're father's appearance must've scared the pants off her, don't you think?"

"I had figured that out, yes," Mairead said, "once the hurt went away a little. But that was months later, and I was already at Staunton's, chasing after Colette. Besides, it all seemed so trite in hindsight, a schoolgirl crush after all. That's what I told myself, anyway. Though seeing Xiomara today- we didn't even have a relationship, really- but seeing her, I remembered how badly I wanted something with her."

Silence followed again and Mairead sunk back into her gloom while her friends tried to comprehend the young witch's situation.

"What'll you do," Jenna asked, breaking the lull.

"Nothing," Mairead replied glumly. "She's with someone, I think- that woman who came into the shop with her. They certainly seemed like a couple."

"Are you sure?" Jenna wheedled. "Maybe they're just mates."

Mairead shrugged noncommittally. "Anyway- she probably wouldn't want to start up again. It's been so long. I've changed, she must've too. And you should've seen that woman Hooch was with- she was gorgeous." She sighed morosely. "Besides, I'd like to forget this happened at all, only I'm stuck brewing all of her potions and she'll be into Anemone's once a week for I don't know how long."

The young witch fretted on that. Friday after Friday, Xiomara would be coming in- Mairead would have to speak with her, make sure the potions were being taken properly. Moreover, with the course of treatment that medi-witch Harriot had set out, Mairead realised that Hooch really _would_ be in and out of Anemone's Alchemy for months. "This is going to be hell," she moaned, and buried her face in the cat once again.

Paddy and Evelyn looked at one another, moving closer as if all this talk of unrequited love made them fearful for their own relationship. Jenna merely shook her head at the young couple and placed a comforting hand on Mairead's shoulder.

"It sounds like you're in a fix, my dear. Why don't I make a pot and we'll try to figure out some plan of action or other?"

The despondent witch nodded into the cat. Over several gallons of tea, the four friends worked at the Hooch problem, with little success, until Mairead fell to sleep leaning against Jenna. Paddy and Evelyn left the flat, holding hands tightly.


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, Mairead was packing up the second round of Xiomara's potions. The woman was expected any time now and the only relief the young woman had experience all week had been that Hooch had not owled her with any questions concerning her treatment.

Though Paddy, Jenna and Evelyn had tried to calm their friend and distract her with intermittent visits and shenanigans, the young with was stuck. Mairead agonised back and forth on her situation; she wanted to see Xiomara again, yet with Hooch came Bronwyn and in all of Mairead's single-minded jealousy, this tall beauty was the crux of the entire situation.

If only Xiomara were available, Mairead told herself, she could try starting up with her again. But her old flying instructor's girlfriend completely trumped any move to be made. Mairead had always been a very respectful person, and it was quite beyond her morals to interfere with someone else's relationship, no matter how much she might covet another's partner.

To add to her misery, Bronwyn was quite frankly one of the most stunning women she'd ever seen. Tall and elegant, Hooch's partner was not someone Mairead found herself attracted to, yet she could understand why Xiomara would be. If Bronwyn was her type, now, the young potion's master didn't stand a chance. Mairead bemoaned her small stature and her mousy, freckled looks. Hooch had wanted her once, but perhaps the older woman's preferences had evolved.

_Besides, she's not up for the taking, you home-wrecking jealous wench. _

Just then, the shop door opened, ringing the small bell with a jolliness that quite disrupted the young witch's sulking. As if summoned by Mairead's ill thoughts towards her, Bronwyn stood smiling at the counter, alone.

"Hiya," Mairead intoned cheerfully. She was almost relieved too see the woman without Hooch. "I've nearly finished boxing Madam Hooch's second course of potions, though I must admit, I wasn't expecting a pick-up until nearer four o'clock. I still have paperwork to do on this."

Bronwyn smiled warmly. "Actually, Xiomara will be in later to take the lot, dear. She doesn't know I'm here. I've come over on my tea to ask you to supper."

Mairead, stunned, actually dropped the quill she was holding and had to scramble to pick it up before it leaked ink all over her requisitions. "Clumsy," she murmured, embarrassed. "Did you say supper?"

The older beauty laughed, not unkindly. "I did, yes. Would you be interested in coming round this evening? I making- I don't let Xiomara near the kitchen, unless it's to do the washing up." Bronwyn flashed a brilliant grin. "What do you say?"

Mairead got a funny feeling that all of this was taking place quite behind Xiomara's back, though she voiced nothing of her suspicions. Faced with the bright and charming Bronwyn, Hooch's former student was frankly at a loss. How could she decline without seeming rude?

Mairead couldn't decide whether it was her infallible manners or a more latent desire which cause her to say what was next said, but the young woman couldn't seem to help herself.

"I'd be glad to accept, Ms-

"Never mind the Ms," Hooch's partner smiled, "call me Bronwyn."

"Bronwyn," echoed the younger witch, smiling despite herself. "I'm through with work at five o'clock, when should I come round?"

Bronwyn looked thoughtful. "I'll need to sort that with Xiomara, I'm not sure when she's through with Hogwarts today. Why don't I speak with her and then I'll have her give you the particulars when she pops in to pick up that lot." The woman gestured to the open box on the counter.

"That sounds fine," Mairead agreed, closing the lid on the box and picking up the roll of twin which sat next to it.

Bronwyn clapped her hands together in delight. "That's grand, really great. We'll see you later, then!"

"See you later," Mairead called pleasantly as the woman left the shop, heels clicking jovially on the worn stone floor.

When the door closed and Mairead was left alone again, she felt the strangest sense of lack, completely unexplained. The light from the candles flickered a little less brightly, the reflections on the glass, which usually sparkled, seemed dull. Shaking her head, Mairead wondered briefly if that Bronwyn woman had placed her under some sort of wordless spell in order to force acquiescence to the invitation for supper. But now she was just being silly. What would it matter to Bronwyn whether or not she, Potion's Master to Anemone the Absent, came to dinner or not? Mairead almost laughed out loud at herself. More than spells or some sort of Veela she-trickery, it was the young woman's own desire to spend time with Xiomara which had caused her to accept.

Mairead unrolled a length of tough twine and secured the parcel. As she tried to engross herself in completing the paperwork, she couldn't help the excitement creeping up insider her at the thought of spending the evening with Xiomara- even if Bronwyn would be there.

As she finished with the filing, her mind wandered completely off towards that fast approaching engagement. What would they talk about? The only things Mairead and Hooch had in common were flying, and to be frank, snogging. Xiomara, as far as the young witch remembered, didn't have any interest in potions, and Bronwyn- Mairead didn't know her at all. The more she considered her options, the clearer it became to the young potions master that this dinner affair was going to be more about fabricating small talk than anything else.

Mairead jolted as the door opened and set of that damnable bell again. Expecting to see Hooch fast approaching the counter, Mairead was relieve to find only a young witch with long, luxurious auburn curls.

"Hiya," Mairead proffered her standard greeting. "Are you here to pick up, or is there something else I can help you with?"

The young woman glanced around furtively, though the shop was empty apart from the two of them. Mairead waited patiently for her customer to come out with her story, which was most likely an embarrassing potions accident or other. She got a few of these a day, to be sure. When the young witch seemed certain no one else was going to burst into the shop, she took a deep breath.

"It's, well you see- I took- I_took_a_potion_tomakemy_hairgrow_longeronlyitsmademy_bottomhair_growtooandeverytimeI_**cut**_it-" she inhaled noisily, "It just grows _back_!"

Mairead blinked, trying to sort the garbled confession. Then she tried not to laugh. "Did you brew the potion yourself, or buy it somewhere?"

The woman lowered her eyes. "I brewed it myself, only I followed the instructions _perfectly_! I don't know what could have gone wrong!"

Mairead nodded understandingly, and immediately knew what might have gone awry.

"Do you know how old the powdered lacewing flies you used were?" The young woman shook her head, no. Mairead nodded. "That would explain your- uh- difficulties, then. I'm not a medi witch, but I can brew you the antidote, and, if you'd like, a more desirable version of the lovely locks draught you were trying to brew in the first place. What do you think?"

"That would be grand," the young witch said gratefully. "My boyfriend is coming home from the auror academy this weekend and, well, you know."

Mairead knew. "That's fine. I can have the potion ready fro you to pick up by noon tomorrow."

The potions master took down the rest of her customer's particulars and the relieved young woman headed towards the door.

"By the way," Mairead called after her, "You're top hair looks stunning."

The young witch turned round, and after a brief moment of shock, she flashed a brilliant grin, fluffed her wavy auburn locks and flounced out of the shop. Chuckling to herself, Mairead was about to turn her attention back to her paperwork when a wry, familiar voice interrupted.

"Top hair? What _do_ you get up to at work?"

Mairead, despite herself, dissolved into an impromptu fit of giggles. "I really can't say, Madam Hooch. It would breech the confidentiality clause, and wouldn't be very professional."

Xiomara, an eyebrow quirked, lithely approached and leaned casually against the high counter.

"So," she began incuriously, "I hear good old Bronwyn has roped you into a little evening soirée at hers and mine?"

Mairead actually felt a blush creeping up the back of her neck. "Yes. She didn't give me much of a choice, really."

Hooch released a short bark of laughter and leaned closer with a glint of conspiracy in her golden eyes. "Between you and me, no, she doesn't. Bronwyn nearly always has her way, and when she doesn't, its usually because she's conceded to compromise. Anyway," the older woman continued in a more sober affectation, "I'm glad you said yes. I realise we left it badly, that day when you graduated, and I'd like a chance to clear things up."

The young witch nodded slowly and then, as some realisation hit, suddenly looked very awkward. "Does Bronwyn know that we-"

Hooch looked uncomfortable. "No. She knows you were my student, but beyond that, nothing. I trust I don't need to mention we should keep that particular fact on the down low?"

"Apparently," Mairead began a little testily, "you thought you did need mention it." Then, despite her annoyance, "Did you just say 'down low'?"

The elder witch rolled her eyes. "Might've done, yes." More seriously, Xiomara then added, "I'm sorry, you must know what I mean. Bronwyn and I, we're not exactly tied to one another, but she's the closest I've come in a very long time and-

"And you don't want me mucking it up," Mairead finished sardonically.

Xiomara pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not fair, and again, not what I meant. I just, I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing, alright? What Bron and I have is nice. It's not epic, but it's comfortable, and I've rather given up hope of a fairytale. I'm not ashamed of what happened between us, if that's what you're thinking. I just want to give Bronwyn and I a chance and at this point in our relationship, I'm not sure she needs to know that we were- attached, especially when she's just met you." Xiomara looked imploringly at her with soft amber eyes. "This isn't easy for me, Mary."

The young woman frowned. It wasn't easy for her either. For all the times she'd dreamt of meeting Xiomara again, Mairead had never considered it would be under such unromantic constraints.

"I can't say I'm particularly at ease with the present situation either, Hooch. I've missed you and seeing you with someone else-" The young woman paused, and seemed to think better of what she was going to say. "Anyway," she offered as an oblique ending.

Xiomara regarded her acquaintance thoughtfully, not sure what to say to put the young woman at ease. Finally, she spoke. "Let's agree that this is going to be a bit awkward for the both of us, but that we'll try to move past it, alright? I've already lost you once, I don't want to lose a chance at finding a friendship with you, too. What do you reckon?"

Wordlessly, Mairead nodded. This was turning fast into a situation, indeed.

"Good," Xiomara continued brightly. "Let's get that lot of nasty potions sorted so we can be off. Bronwyn will work herself into a right state if we're late to her fabulous feast."

The potions master ducked behind the counter and produced a package of no small size.

"You're, uh, nasty potions Madam Hooch," she offered with a grin. "Though I resent the comment, considering I'm the one who brewed all of them so especially for you."

Xiomara cackled. "Quite," she said, snorting. "Please excuse my ill-thought of remark, do."

This was more like it. The old banter, the comfortable verbal sparring which had so endeared the women to one another in the first place. If they could continue this way for the rest of the evening, perhaps they'd make it through Bronwyn's little social escapade unscathed.

"I'll let it slide this time Madam Hooch, but remember who brews those potions. One day, my hand might _slip_ over the cauldron, holding perhaps a bottle of something undesirable, and who knows what effect it may have on you health."

Xiomara snorted loudly. "You spent far too much time skulking about the dungeons with Severus, luv. Keep on like that and someone will think the two of you had a less than _professional_ relationship."

"Only one Hogwarts professor was blessed with that particular privilege, and we both know it wasn't Snape." Mairead smiled, if only to let Hooch know she was joking. "Anyway," she continued, gesturing to the package, "this lot's ready. I just have to close up shop and then I'll meet you at yours, wherever it is."

Hooch stowed the package under her good arm. "I might as well wait, then."

Mairead paused uncomfortably. "That's okay. I need to get cleaned up, sort out some fresh robes-

"It's no bother," Xiomara offered brightly. "I'd like to see your flat, unless it's a complete shambles, or full of dead customers or something."

"It isn't," the young witch said hesitantly, the humour lost on her.

"Grand!" Xiomara exclaimed, offering no reprise. "Lets pop up then. You can get gorgeous and I can snoop!"

Mairead roller her eyes. She could understand the older witch's eagerness now. After all, the biggest incentive to go to Xiomara's was the prospect of seeing the Quidditch instructor's life outside of Hogwarts. Grudgingly, Mairead let her hackles down.

"All right, if you must. My flat is through the back."

As they ascended, Mairead couldn't help pretending that Xiomara wasn't coming up to poke around in her belongings, that the older woman was following her up the creaking stairs because that's where she belonged. But, no such luck. When Mairead swung the door open and Hooch immediately began browsing along her heaving bookshelves, the illusion was shattered and the young woman wandered off into her bedroom in search of more appropriate attire for a night of pretentious lies.

Hooch, unaware of Mairead's movements, gazed with interest at the heavily burdened shelves, finding many texts concerning Mary's- _Mairead Xio, Mairead_- profession. Several notebooks also resided at the end of the long line of tomes, which Xiomara opened unabashedly. Filled from top to bottom were pages of neatly written recipes, notations and diagrams of unusual ingredients, obviously all in Mairead's own hand. If the girl was already creating her own potions, she really was living up to Severus' expectations.

Shaking her head at the brilliance of her former student, Xiomara wandered into a back room at the end of the shelves and found more books, kept company by an array of gleaming cauldrons and tens of hundreds of delicate glass vials. Surveying the sterile room, her gaze caught on a most unlikely object; from under a tatty afghan the familiar sight of well-trimmed twigs, which rested evenly on the worn timber floor.

_A broomstick?_

Xiomara was awash with memories. Sitting on her sofa, her ankle throbbing, Mary's hand trailing slowly across her fluttering stomach. The feral scent of dirt and grass.

_I think I might…love you._

God, how that one little phrase had filled Xiomara's entire body with a sweet, glowing warmth. Hooch allowed herself a moment of speculation. What might have happened, if she hadn't turned the girl away so harshly, if she'd only let things be? She imagined herself waking next to the young woman, wrapped in a sleepy embrace.

"Enough," she muttered angrily. How had she let Bronwyn trap her in this charade of pleasantries? Furthermore, why was she Xiomara Hooch- happily partnered- entertaining these impossible fantasies?

Xiomara, guilt now driving her thoughts, remembered the pendant she had given to her young love, the one she still kept in a box of items stashed deeply in her messy desk at school. The Quidditch ref couldn't explain why she'd kept the ruddy thing; perhaps to throw it out seemed like some sort of bad voodoo. Whatever the reason, she had kept it, and now she couldn't help but consider returning it to it's rightful owner. But that wasn't a sign of the friendship she's tried to appease Mairead with. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

"Still snooping?"

Hooch started and turned to see a polished Mairead in casual and contemporary robes which flattered her small, curved figure immensely.

Xiomara, attempting to regain control of the conversation smirked. "Perhaps."

"Anything of note," queried the young woman casually.

"You've got a broom."

Mairead faltered. "I fly, sometimes. You sound surprised, when in fact it was you who insisted I keep it up."

Hooch squinted, the banter fizzling out of the conversation with an almost audible wheeze. "So I did," she murmured. Suddenly desperate to end this unfortunate turn of the conversation, Xiomara moved towards Mairead and took her hand. "Sidelong apparation will be simpler," she offered by way of explanation, and before the young woman could respond, they popped out of existence, only to pop back in again with a resounding crack a moment later. As they stood in front of the small country cottage Xiomara and Bronwyn called home, neither woman noticed the long seconds which transpired before their hands separated.


End file.
